


The Dreamer's Burden

by Malicei



Category: Stand Still Stay Silent
Genre: Canon Death, Character Study, Depressing, Gen, Lalli has Issues, Mental Health Issues, Miscommunication, Misunderstandings, Poor Lalli, Pre-Slash, hopelessness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-14
Updated: 2018-11-14
Packaged: 2019-08-23 15:34:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16621688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Malicei/pseuds/Malicei
Summary: The others talk about him, he knows. A loner even amongst a people of loners. He just buries himself in his work. Work is good. Work has clear expectations of him, and it's one of the few things he takes pride in. He knows he's worth something then, because good scouts or mages will always be needed. Some look at him with pity and say it must be terribly lonely to live like that.Lalli just shrugs. This is all he knows.





	The Dreamer's Burden

Lalli is, and has always been different.

 _Maybe in the old days they'd have a diagnosis to slap on him_ , grandmother mentioned once, offhandedly. She'd always told stories handed down to her from her own parents where food was always plentiful, where people could wander outside the walls freely - when they hadn't even needed walls because there was nothing to be afraid of.

He heard her words, understood the concept, but could never truly understand it in his heart. This life is all he knows and all he expects to know. Peace is only the lull between conflicts. And he knows enough about life to know that people and life will always be prone to conflict. It's just a matter of catching his breath while he has the luxury of doing so during the calm before the storm.

It makes him tetchy, not knowing what's out there and coming. Knowing that he has nothing but his wits and his weapons to fight each battle against death.

But that's okay. That's all he knows. It's all he has. The only person he can rely on is himself and he's kept his own company for so long he wouldn't know how to work with others even if he wanted to. The others talk about him, he knows. A loner even amongst a people of loners.

Their words do not bother him. Easy enough to run your mouth with gossip about someone who's different. They always do.

He does not need the approval of people who don't even know him before they cast judgement. Instead, he buries himself in his work. Work is good. Work has clear expectations of him, and it's one of the few things he takes pride in. He knows he's worth something then, because good scouts or mages will always be needed. Some look at him with pity and say it must be terribly lonely to live like that.

Lalli just shrugs. This is all he knows.

* * *

 _Not quite a boy and not yet a man_ , he thinks as he gazes upon golden hair vainly kept to perfection and a bubbling melody of sounds that spill out freely without meaning.

Yet he doesn't need words to see what his eyes are telling him. A scout trusts his instincts. There is something...earnest, genuinely naive in him.

These types were always so innocent. But the world will chew him up and spit him out eventually.

He just hopes that it doesn't turn into liability out in the field.

Oh. Golden boy was looking him in the eyes, a seemingly endless stream of babble tumbling out of that mouth of his. Words were tricky, anyway. People often say one thing and mean another and untangling that mess is far more work than he cares to devote to mindless gossip.

His stomach continues to throw a rebellion as he steps forward. The swede extends a hand out to him.

Ah. Lalli remembers this lesson - he's supposed to shake it back or something. Onni made him practice it over and over, the whole "meeting new people" ritual even as Lalli complained that he knew Onni already, why did he have to practice this stupid game with him? Why did Onni even care? He wasn't exactly the most social person around either.

Something about learning how to have decent relationships with others would help him when interacting with people. He doesn't really understand, nor care - why would he willingly want to interact with all those noisy people? That hand is still there, waiting. Lalli is too exhausted to even play this pretense of being social. Why was he even here? Tuuri knew he didn't work well with others. This...not-boy, not-man was going to get killed, going into the silent world like this was just a  _game_. It's just a game to them. Until it's too late and then it  _isn't_. Had this supposed cleanser even had to see anyone die in front of him before? Had he even seen a troll up front instead of in textbooks?

He's too tired for this. Lalli walks right on past the swede and doesn't look any of them in the eye, ignoring the surprised look he gets.  _It is better to learn the world is not nice sooner than later anyway_ , he thinks.  _You should have run far, far away, before the world crushes that spirit of yours. Before it's too late._  But he would not understand those words even if they were spoken in a language he understood, and so Lalli says nothing and keeps walking.

There's nothing else to do but keep walking forward.

* * *

 _Have you made any friends?_  Onni asks of him.

 _...One. Maybe._  He admits.

Is that what it is? Whatever  _this_  is he has with Emil.

Friends. Huh.

He knows about this concept that others value so highly and yet is still mystifying opaque to him. From what he's gathered it's a person whose presence isn't merely irritating or tolerable but outright worth seeking at times for their company. Family doesn't count, he's been corrected before. Something about sharing close DNA generally obligates people to maintain social connections with each other. Mostly it just results in Onni mother-henning them and Tuuri bossing him around.

Emil zooms in on him, talking for the sake of filling in the silence. It does not matter or make any sense and yet he still does so. He keeps creeping closer yet gives Lalli room to state his slowly receding boundaries. He doesn't radiate an...intent with his posture, like the way he's seen predators do when stalking their prey. It's beyond Lalli for what purpose he bothers to try getting close to Lalli for. So far it doesn't seem malicious. So he tolerates this strange relationship.

_What do you want from me, Emil? I don't understand._

* * *

 He looks back at the cat tank every now and again.

He can always hear its loud rumbles from behind so it's more a factor of obtaining visual contact to ascertain for himself the status of the crew within. Tuuri's driving as usual, chatting with Sigrun as she and Mikkel look over a faded map. Emil pops up occasionally and sometimes he catches him staring at Lalli. Emil always just smiles and waves until he gets back to scouting ahead.

The stowaway is presumably somewhere in the back, being useless as usual. The others look almost like a proper group, ragtag bunch though they are.  _(Where does he fit into the picture?)_

He shakes his head. No point wasting time on stupid self-pity, he has a job to do and he'll do it right.

* * *

 _I've saved them_ , he thinks smugly as he comes to.  _It does not matter that I might have overextended. I've done my job well._

Only it turns out, the others are more concerned about that stupid, dumb kitten they picked up. _Mangy thing!_

There is no celebration for him. No signs of appreciation or even acknowledgement of what he's done, what he's risked, what he's sacrificed for them all. Even Emil...Emil just jabbers on uselessly knowing that Lalli didn't understand, too in love with the sound of his own voice and making people hear it!

It burns. It burns with frustration within and for a moment, he hates that he ever got his hopes up, that he dared think people might appreciate him, Lalli, stupid dumb quiet Lalli who everyone ignores or takes for granted.

He lashes out and Emil happens to get in the way of his anger. The look Emil gives him, that look of shocked betrayal...it almost makes him feel bad. Almost. But he's at the end of his rope and this isn't a game and he should  _never, ever have come to the silent world._

* * *

He feels it.

Feels that presence that is Tuuri disappear, winking out like a dying star, a tiny light in the distance burn out. Lalli blanches, chokes.

The water or blood in his chest isn't his and he's not truly choking on it but it feels like it anyway. He feels her last moment - a resigned acceptance, a broken spirit and the suffocating feeling of the world closing in on him as it finally comes to take its due. Then it stops. He feels the sudden lack of it almost as painfully as its presence.

There is an undeniable, horrifying truth that sinks (and keeps  _sink, sink, **sinking**_ ) into his stomach as he hobbles to catch his balance.

 _Tuuri_ , he rasps, bile rising up in the back of his throat. No. Oh,  **no**.

There are no words, no words he can say to explain the horror of the situation to the others, nothing other than call out in Finnish and hope the bleak, inevitable understanding in his voice gets through to them. He doesn't wait to see if they got the message; instead, he scatters like ashes to the wind.

Emil is the one to find him. Lalli won't, can't care anymore. Lalli has become thin ice, ready to crack into into millions of pieces at the slightest misstep and so, so cold. A wrong step, and he's afraid he's going to drown.

The world is cruel and no matter how hard you want to believe, sometimes there's nothing that can save you from reality. Emil hovers around him like he's afraid he'll shatter, soft words probably meant to be comforting just gaining his irritation instead.  _Too soft-hearted_ , Lalli despairs.  _Stop it_ , he thinks.  _Stop it!_

 _You don't understand!_  he wants to roar.  _Tuuri was like you too. She wanted to believe that everything would just turn out alright, that tragedy only happened to others. And see where that got her,_ he thinks, bitterly. _You're so naive. Wearing that heart of yours on your sleeve...there are monsters in this world and not all of them wear a trollish face. You should hide away that heart of yours before you get hurt. Don't you see?! You shouldn't offer that heart of yours so freely, Emil!_

_Why are you handing it to **me** , Emil?_

Emil continues to be that endlessly optimistic ray of hope and Lalli wants nothing more than to cruelly, brutally crush it. Destroy the light that is Emil, because he's still so painfully naive as to believe things will somehow turn out alright, like life will spare them in the end. How can he smile and find hope in a stupid flower?

But Emil just wouldn't understand, even if they spoke the same language. He lashes out in frustration and bears the hurt look he receives stoically.

 _Good,_ he thinks viciously. _Hate me, if you want. It's better you do._ _Too good for this world_ , he thinks tiredly, rubbing at his eyes. They say the good always die young. This expedition is an utter disaster. Lalli just wants to go home and be left alone,but even the thoughts of home are cold comfort now.

How is he gonna face Onni returning home  _alone_?

Onni is going to understand as soon as he hears the single pair of footsteps returning. And Onni...Onni is going to break apart in front of them all. His emotions are going to get everywhere and in front of people and it's already too much emotion for Lalli to even think of dealing with.

He was supposed to be  _good_ , didn't he learn his lesson last time? 'Good enough' hasn't saved his cousin. 'Good enough' gets people killed.

He buries his face in his pillow and thinks -  _please, please, please let this nightmare be over_.

But the monsters have crept out to haunt him outside his dreams and he knows, he just knows there will be no respite for him.

* * *

The others argue, a symphony of dissenting melodies cutting through each other. He can see the warrior in Sigrun wants to cut losses and leave right away, motioning for him to come. That would be what a good captain would do, the most utilitarian and practical option. He does not hold much stock in her personality but it's clear she takes her job the most seriously out of the others and knows when to buckle down when things get serious.

He feels numb. The only thing he can do now is ensure her soul isn't trapped and makes its rightful way to Tuonela. It's...a relief, to have Emil speak on his behalf. He doesn't have the words, not in any language to deal with...this.

Tuuri's soul flies off to Tuonela and Lalli collapses like a puppet with his strings cut. His duty is done now.

It's a poor consulation prize.

_Not good enough, Lalli._

He failed in his mission to protect Tuuri and the others. How many more are going to die because he isn't good enough?  _You failed, Lalli. You know the consequences if you fail. You lose everything you ever cared for._

Why does he still care? All it does is get him hurt when they leave. Caring, empathy... All of it is a trap the young, would-be mages fall into. They don't last very long. Emotional mages are a weakness waiting to be killed. You numb yourself to the disappearances and tragedies of life or you go mad in this harsh, uncaring world.

 _Grandmother,_  he despairs.  _What do you do when you do your best and your best isn't good enough?_

There is no answer, of course. Lalli is alone in all the ways that matter.


End file.
